Reborn As Noble

Before Duke Kimar could respond, Garius spoke again, smooth and composed.

”Since the ruler’s seat is empty, the kingdom stands in a fragile hour. We all know how the currents shift when a throne is without its master. A poisoned cup here, a blade slipped in the dark there... and whispers, far sharper than steel, find their way into men’s ears. Who can say where the next strike may fall?”

He let his hand rest on the carved cup, eyes gliding across the long table, meeting noble after noble.

”Precaution is not distrust, Your Grace. It is the natural duty of one who holds land, blood, and legacy in his charge. Would it be folly to entrust everything to unknown hands when one can safeguard what is his?”

His smile stayed faint and measured as he leaned back slightly.

”I bring only what is mine, that I may answer for it. Nothing more, nothing less. If some find fault in that... then perhaps they see shadows where I have lit only a lamp.”

”So I fail to see how my conduct, whether I raise a cup of my own or accept one placed before me, warrants such attention,” Garius said calmly, his smirk never leaving. ”If it is an eyesore, then let it be mine to carry. Surely people of rank and wisdom have bigger matters to weigh than the vessel from which I drink.”

His gaze swept the hall, his voice steady and resonant, not loud but undeniable.

”Besides... today we are not here to judge cutlery, crystal, or the habits of a people. We are here to weigh the worth of Princess Kliatana, and with her, the future of this kingdom. The throne lies silent, and silence fuels ambition. Already we smell the wine on each other’s breath, whispers traded at feasts beyond these walls, crowns promised before they are earned.”

He leaned back, his hand resting on the carved cup. The faint smirk returned, cool and unyielding.

”I honor the crown best by speaking plainly within these walls, not by pretending blind to the stench of scheming. If my caution offends... let it be so. I will endure offense more easily than regret.”

Before Garius could continue, the chair on his right scraped against the marble floor. A broad figure dropped into it with the casual confidence of someone who fears nothing in this hall.

”Count Garius!”

The voice rang with a grin from behind him. High Baron Rolland leaned back in his seat, folding one arm over the rest as if the council chamber were his own hearth.

Garius exhaled softly, a sigh that carried no surprise. He did not look at Rolland, merely raised his cup once more.

The chamber turned, nobles craning, whispers sparking like sparks. Rolland was not a meek ally, nor a cautious schemer. His lands lay just one region beyond Garius’s, and though they weren’t border neighbors, their histories and trading ties bound them closely for decades.

But what drew every eye now was not his title or reputation, but his grin, the unflinching ease with which he placed himself beside the man half the chamber despised.

Rolland smirked wider, his voice rising just enough to cut across the murmurs.

”What fortune. To find myself seated next to the only man here worth speaking with.”

Duke Kimar’s gaze slid toward Rolland, his smile thin and polished, yet his tone edged like a blade beneath velvet.

”High Baron Rolland... how rare. You grace us at last. You always seem to miss our councils. Tell me, has your region flourished so greatly that you no longer require the king’s hall to steady your hand?”

The nobles around the table stirred, some smirking at the jab, others holding their breath. Kimar’s words were not shouted, yet the weight of rank sharpened them, spoken not as a jest but as a reminder: a duke’s word cuts deeper than any baron’s protest.

Kimar’s eyes narrowed, his voice smooth yet biting.

”Clearly not the sight one expects of a nobleman. Sit properly, Rolland. Leave that peasant posture outside these walls. Act as your station demands.”

A murmur ran through the chamber, the reminder of hierarchy pressing on the air.

Rolland’s grin lingered, but he inclined his head with practiced grace.

”Forgive my rudeness, Your Grace.” His tone was polished now, his movements deliberate as he straightened in his seat. He smoothed the front of his coat, adjusted his cuffs, and crossed his arms in a refined manner, every inch the noble Kimar demanded of him.

Meanwhile, at the back.

Javier slouched slightly in his chair, one elbow on the armrest, his cheek resting on his palm. His sharp eyes wandered over the chamber, watching the nobles posture and bicker with the grace of children fighting over sweets. A faint groan slipped from him.

He leaned toward Liana, lowering his voice just enough for her alone.

”How long do you think this council will drag on?”

Liana, standing just behind his shoulder, bent down a touch, her voice calm and gentle as always.

”Normally an hour or two, young master... but with what is at stake today, I fear it may take far longer.”

Javier’s eyes widened. He whispered back with mock horror.

”Eh!? For real!? Then I’m going to rot here in boredom before they even reach a conclusion.”

Liana hid her smile behind her hand, though her shoulders betrayed a faint shake of amusement.

”Please endure, young master. It is part of your duty.”

”Duty, huh...” Javier muttered, drumming his fingers against the armrest. His lips tugged into a sly grin.

”Maybe I should make my own entertainment before I fall asleep.”

Liana sighed softly. ”Young master... please don’t.”

”You won’t dare to make Lord Garius mad, right?” she added, her tone sharper.

Javier let out a long breath, resting his cheek on his palm with a lazy shrug. ”Yeah, yeah... whatever.”

His gaze drifted back toward the council chamber, where nobles continued their endless talking, the air heavy with anticipation for Princess Kliatana’s arrival. Javier’s eyes half-lidded, his mind already wandering, clearly bored by the long speeches.

Then Liana leaned down, her breath brushing close to his ear as she whispered.

”Looks like you’re waiting for someone, young master... missing Princess Kliatana, perhaps?”

”Huh?” Javier whipped his head toward her, his whisper sharp. ”No!” he hissed.

”I didn’t even think about her, Liana,” he muttered, glaring half-heartedly.

Liana only smiled sweetly, but her words carried a dangerous edge.

”Young master~ remember, don’t you dare add more to your harem. Six is already trouble enough. And I claim two days from seven.”

Her smile lingered, dangerous and soft at once, as Javier slumped back with a groan.

( End Of Chapter )